


Reunion

by LadyLysa



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Love, M/M, Numbness, Pain, Reunion, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 01:33:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8824900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLysa/pseuds/LadyLysa
Summary: War is a numbing thing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place just after the final battle of the Last Alliance. Sauron has been defeated, but recovery remains slow.

War is a numbing thing. Perhaps that is a paradox, but it is what Glorfindel knows. Somewhere in between the endless tactic meetings and emergency strategy sessions and the desperately scrubbing blood off of weapons to use them for the battle tomorrow and the endless endless death and destruction and ruin, it is easier to just let go of feelings and think only of the now, not daring to miss the past or venturing to think about the possibilities of the future. 

Well now the war is won and still Glorfindel doesn’t feel. He goes through the motions on autopilot, comforts the bereaved, give heart to the soldiers, take part in ever more planning to rebuild a world in ruin. He is weary, so weary and his heart is heavy and still he cannot rest. And still he has not caught sight of the face that, consciously and unconsciously, he has been looking for this entire time. 

Glorfindel is kneeling amidst the healing bandages, for though he possesses few skills in the healing arts, every able hand is needed to tend to the wounded. He hears a rustle and stands up, putting up his mask once again. He begins to speak, then stop abruptly. Because _he_ is here. His hair is in all sorts of disarray and his clothing is torn and blood-splattered and there is a bandage that probably needs changing on his arm, but he is here. And alive. And more beautiful than Glorfindel could ever dream. Glorfindel supposes, in some distant part of his mind, that he probably looks like a fool, standing useless with his mouth agape. But then, Erestor is no better, his eyes desperately tracing over Glorfindel’s face.

It is almost in tandem that they move toward each other, catching each other in their arms, and it is the most natural thing in the world for Glorfindel to lean down and brush his nose against his partner’s, and then his lips, And now they are kissing, touching every part of each other, long held desire bursting at the seams of their bodies. Fire rushes through Glorfindel’s veins, burning away the numbness and the bitter cold of war and grief, replacing them with a well of impossibly deep love. 

And at last Glorfindel feels.


End file.
